Borderline Crazy
by Sk8er Chica
Summary: Carlos is having a bad day. It only gets worse when a suspect makes a run for the border.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING

A/N: This is just an idea I thought up a while ago. It'll probably only be two chapters. It's also my first _Sons of Thunder _fic. Please read and review.

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Carlos Sandoval was having the day from hell. He'd overslept and ended up arriving at the police department half an hour after shift started. After Captain Donaldson had finished chewing him out, Carlos anticipated having a routine day on patrol. Wrong. Captain Donaldson had pressed a stack of warrants on him. It was sweeps day, a bi-monthly round-up of citizens who had outstanding warrants. Oh joy.

Most of the people Carlos encountered that morning and afternoon had no intentions of going in quietly for their various warrants. Carlos suffered a few bumps and bruises, but nothing major enough to get him sent home for the day. The most ill-tempered person he encountered during sweeps day was a woman. Baby Girl was a stripper who had a warrant out for beating up a fellow stripper named Glitter behind the club because she caught Glitter giving her boyfriend a lap-dance. Baby Girl became more than a little agitated when Carlos came to her apartment to arrest her. She had fingernails that resembled hot-pink talons, with which she attempted to gouge out Carlos's eyes. Baby Girl fought all the way to the patrol car, only stopping when the high heel of her shoe got caught in the cage and she couldn't pull it loose.

'_I'm glad that's over with,' _Carlos thought as he sat in the parking lot behind the county jail, watching a female officer attempting to escort Baby Girl inside.

Carlos checked his watch. Shift was almost over and he still had one warrant to serve. He decided to serve it, hoping to make up to Captain Donaldson for coming in late that morning.

It wasn't long before Carlos spotted the silver Impala that belonged to the fugitive, Javy Molina. He turned on his lights and signaled for Molina to pull over. Instead of pulling over, Molina floored it. Carlos gave chase. He had almost caught up to Molina when Molina made a sharp turn onto a dirt access road.

"Damn it!" shouted Carlos, pounding the steering wheel.

Molina's car had kicked up a lot of dust, and he wouldn't be able to pick up the trail again until the dust cleared. By then, Molina could be long gone. Carlos was familiar with this road, which led to a border checkpoint. He wasn't sure if there was time to alert Border Patrol so they could hold Molina for him. Suddenly, Carlos's line of vision was restored. He gunned the engine and roared off to the checkpoint.

When he arrived, a Border Patrol agent seemed to be in the process of searching Molina's car. Carlos breathed a sigh of relief; he hadn't missed him. The feeling of relief lasted until he noticed the loudly barking Customs dog and the fact that Molina was in handcuffs. He immediately jumped out of his squad car and ran toward the guard booth the Impala was parked next to.

"Hey!" Carlos yelled. "Hey!"

The dog suddenly leapt onto its hind legs, baring two sets of bone-crushing teeth at Carlos.

"No!" the dog's handler commanded, jerking hard on its leash. "Radar, sit!"

The dog instantly planted its bottom on the ground.

"Good boy," Radar's handler praised, patting the dog's side.

One look at Radar's handler made Carlos think his day hadn't been so bad after all. She was about 5'5" and slender, her caramel-colored hair pulled out the back of her Border Patrol ballcap in a ponytail that just brushed the collar of her Border Patrol windbreaker. He wasn't sure what color her eyes were because they were obscured by a pair of police-issue sunglasses. Upon checking the nameplate on the woman's uniform shirt, he knew her last name was Bowdre.

"Sorry," Bowdre apologized. "Radar's a little excitable. He's new."

"That's all right," Carlos assured her.

"Is there a problem here, Officer?" asked Bowdre.

"Yeah, I got a problem." Carlos replied. "That's my suspect you're arresting. That guy over there is Javy Molina. He's got outstanding warrants in Dallas for trafficking and aggravated assault." He produced the paperwork from the breast pocket of his uniform shirt.

Bowdre removed her sunglasses and balanced them atop her ballcap, revealing in the process a pair of blue eyes. Squinting, she held the warrant up the sun as though determined to detect a forgery.

"Can you tell me why you're arresting him?" Carlos asked.

"Various types of narcotics found in the car, along with an unlicensed .25 pistol." said Bowdre. "Oh, and before authority comes into question, it says 'Border Patrol' on my jacket, pal."

"My name is Officer Carlos Sandoval," said Carlos, trying hard to maintain professionalism.

Bowdre let out a sort of sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I can see we're going to have a problem with this arrest. Get on your radio, call your captain, and have him meet my lieutenant here. Oh, and you'll probably need to stick around in case anybody has any questions for you."

"Should I call my captain now?"

"No, tomorrow," said Bowdre sarcastically.

"Feds are all alike," grumbled Carlos as he walked back to his car to notify Captain Donaldson of the situation. "Not happy unless they're horning in on other cases, worried about us local yokels wearing their drug collars…"

Carlos radioed Dispatch and asked to be patched through to his captain. Donaldson shared Carlos's opinion of the Feds, then said it would take a few hours for him to get down to the border. Just before hanging up, he told Carlos to follow Bowdre's firm instructions to stay put.


	2. Chapter 2

Carlos put down his radio, left his car, and hiked back down to the border checkpoint. He saw Bowdre, alone now, standing beside the guard booth.

"What happened to the pooch?" Carlos wanted to know.

"He's in the kennel." Bowdre replied. "His shift's over. And by the way, he's my partner, not just a pooch."

She removed a package of JuicyFruit gum from the pocket on her windbreaker, unwrapped a stick, and popped it in her mouth.

Carlos's eyes lit up when he saw the package. He loved JuicyFruit. He held out a hand. "Can I have a piece, please?"

Bowdre gave him a stick, then shifted her quid of gum to her other cheek. "Let's wait in the breakroom." she suggested. "At least it's air-conditioned."

"Sure," Carlos agreed. He thought hopefully that maybe the ice had been broken and they could chat while their bosses sorted out the jurisdictional mess.

The breakroom wasn't much: a battered sofa, a small refrigerator, a microwave, coffee maker, a couple of tables, and a few hard plastic chairs. Bowdre sat on one and placed another on the opposite side of the table so she could prop up her legs. Carlos placed his chair a few feet from hers before he too sat down. He got up about five minutes later to spit out his gum in the trash.

After another half hour or so, Carlos's hopes of conversation were dashed. Bowdre hadn't said a word to him. She just sat with her arms crossed, still chewing hard on her gum, which Carlos was sure had lost its flavor by now. He wondered why she wouldn't talk to him. Was she shy or just plain antisocial? He cast around for something to say, just to break the silence.

"I wonder how much overtime we're getting paid for this." he mused aloud.

Bowdre chuckled darkly. "You think I get overtime?"

_GGGGWWWWRRRRRRRRLLLLL! _

Carlos, suddenly realizing how hungry he was, asked, "Is there a vending machine around here somewhere?"

"Yeah, just outside the door," said Bowdre.

"Thank God," sighed Carlos, getting to his feet.

He pulled some change out of his pocket and went into the hall. He scanned the vending machine's offerings carefully and soon spotted his favorite kind of chips: Lay's Sour Cream and Onion. Carlos fed the coins into the slot, then punched in "J4." Nothing happened. Carlos pressed the buttons again. Still, the machine did not release a bag of chips. Carlos smacked the side of the machine with his hand, but the chips stayed where they were. He checked over his shoulder to make sure no one was coming before he took his baton from his belt. Sure, it was a little extreme, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Carlos landed a solid blow to the side of the vending machine, which rattled it, but did not cause the chips to fall.

From behind him, there was a smothered snort of laughter. Carlos whipped around, baton still in hand, to find Bowdre leaning against the doorjamb of the breakroom. She shook her head, grinning.

"I may have to report you to your captain for police brutality," said Bowdre.

"The damn machine took my money!" Carlos said indignantly.

"That friggin' thing's been broken for over a year. Didn't you see the sign?"

Carlos examined the glass front of the machine more closely. Sure enough, on a sheet of printer paper, was a hand-lettered notice reading: OUT OF SERVICE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

"Oh," he said, now feeling rather stupid. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Guess this isn't my day, huh?"

"If it _is_ your day, I'd hate to see a bad one," Bowdre replied.

Carlos stuck his baton back in his belt and returned to the breakroom.

_Gggwwwwwrrrrrrrrllllll! _

His stomach started to complain again. He leaned back and did his best to ignore it, even as the growling increased in volume and frequency.

_GGGGWWWWWRRRRL! RRRRRWWWWWLLLLLLL! GRRrrrWWWWLLLLLL!_

By now, Carlos was sorely tempted to grab his stomach and scream "Shut up!" at it like the people in the Burger King commercials. Of course, that wouldn't do any good, but that was about the only option he had at this point, other than perhaps sampling the sofa cushions or his clothing.

Across from him, Bowdre was impatiently drumming her fingers against the tabletop. "What could possibly be taking this long?" she asked. "I'd really like to go home sometime tonight."

"Trust me, so would I," said Carlos.

"It's a very simple matter: Fed trumps local, case closed. Not to mention that my shift is technically over, and I'm starving."

"Me too," Carlos agreed.

The appearance of a stern-looking man in his late forties put an abrupt end to their discussion. Bowdre leapt out of her chair and stood up very straight.

"Lieutenant Burns," she acknowledged.

"Bowdre, it'll be a while before Captain Donaldson and I can come to an agreement about this prisoner." Burns began.

"I understand, sir," she said.

"You and Officer Sandoval are free to go out and grab a bite to eat, but I expect to see you two back here in 90 minutes. Do you understand?"

Bowdre nodded. "Yes, sir. And speaking for both Officer Sandoval and myself, I appreciate this gesture."

Lieutenant Burns tossed a set of keys their way. Carlos tried to catch them, but Bowdre was quick to snatch them out of his reach.

"Sorry, Sandy," she teased, "but this is a federal vehicle. You're not insured to drive it."

Honestly, Carlos wouldn't have cared if he had to walk behind the car as long as he got to a restaurant. He obediently climbed into the passenger seat of the Border Patrol SUV. Bowdre turned the key in the ignition and they were off.


	3. Chapter 3

"So..." Carlos began, "mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"Depends on how personal it is," Bowdre replied.

"When you introduced yourself earlier, I never caught your first name."

"C-h-a-r-l-e-i-g-h, pronounced 'Charlie,'" she said.

Carlos raised an eyebrow. It sure was a strange way to spell that particular name. "Is it short for Charlotte or something?"

Bowdre shook her head. "No, just Charleigh. It's been an 'in' name in my family since 1870-something."

"Cool." he said. "Now I got another question for ya." He drummed on his stomach with his hands. "Where we going for dinner?"

"How much money you got?" Bowdre wanted to know.

"You planning on mugging me?" Carlos asked with a small chuckle.

"No," she replied, clearly not amused.

Carlos checked his wallet. He had close to thirty dollars.

"There's an IHOP a little ways up the road." said Bowdre.

"Pancakes? It's almost 8:00 at night." said Carlos.

"Take it or leave it," Bowdre advised.

Carlos abruptly closed his mouth. Bowdre pulled the SUV into a parking spot in a somewhat deserted lot. Evidently, most people weren't craving pancakes at this hour of the night. Carlos opened the door to the restaurant for Bowdre and they entered the lobby, whose only occupants were a family with two small children and a bored-looking hostess. The hostess quickly tried to wipe the scowl off her face when she realized there were new customers. Bowdre approached the hostess stand and requested a booth for two. Immediately, the hostess scooped up two sets of silverware and two menus from under the stand and escorted them to a booth with a window view. Carlos immediately began perusing the menu.

"How can funnel cakes be eight bucks?" he asked quietly.

"Now you know why I only eat here as a treat," said Bowdre.

Any impending conversation was halted by the arrival of the waiter, a scrawny college guy with a semi-Afro haircut and long sideburns. He had his pad and pen out, ready for their drink order.

"Root beer," said Carlos without even stopping to think about it.

"7-Up," said Bowdre, just as quickly.

The waiter was back inside of a minute with their glasses. Bowdre glanced at the menu again, running her finger down the list of breakfast offerings. "Decisions, decisions," she said, almost to herself.

Carlos stared at his own menu, chewing an ice cube from his root beer. "Think I might get a sandwich or something. What are you having?"

"Some form of pancakes." she said.

"Ready to order?" asked the waiter, reappearing next to the table.

"Ladies first," Carlos invited.

"Chocolate chip pancakes, and can I get a small order of fries on the side?"

The waiter blinked, wondering if he'd misunderstood. "Did you say French fries, ma'am?" he inquired.

"Yes."

"I can do that, but they'll be full price," he warned.

"Fine."

The waiter turned to Carlos. "And you, sir?"

"I'll have some of those strawberry funnel cakes with extra powdered sugar and an order of scrambled eggs and bacon."

The waiter blinked again and told Carlos the bacon and eggs, like Bowdre's fries, would be full price. Carlos said he didn't mind the extra cost. Both Carlos and Bowdre could have sworn they saw the waiter shivering as he walked toward the kitchen to drop off their orders.

"Probably wondering how we can stand that stuff all at once," Bowdre guessed sagely.

"Me? I got the stomach of a billy goat." said Carlos.

"Never heard that expression before," she said.

"My grandmother used to say that about me." Carlos explained.

Then the two of them really began to talk. They discovered they both liked dancing, Mexican food, and _The Godfather _movies. Bowdre had read _The Godfather _novels after seeing the movies and filled Carlos in on the differences between the books and the movies. They started to feel more at ease with each other, like they were friends. They only stopped talking when the waiter, gagging slightly but visibly, set down their plates. Bowdre and Carlos got down to the serious business of enjoying their dinners.

"Well, that feels a lot better," said Carlos some time later, setting down his knife and fork.

Bowdre nodded in agreement, finished off the last of her fries, and dusted off her hands. She suddenly looked thoughtful as she opened her wallet to pay her portion of the bill. "It's kind of funny, really, that we're both arresting officers in the Molina case." she said. "My name is Charleigh, and, as I'm sure you know, Carlos is the Spanish form of Charles. So no matter what our bosses decide, it's a win for Charlie either way."

Carlos allowed himself a grin. "That's a good way of looking at it, I guess."

He shoved a few dollars under the edge of his plate for a tip and got up from the booth. As he climbed into the passenger seat of the Border Patrol SUV, Carlos suddenly found he didn't care who won the jurisdictional battle anymore.

THE END


End file.
